"just wait til tomorrow / i guess that's what they all say"

I've decided that my song for 2009 is Regret - New Order.

Last night I deleted him from my FB friends list. This morning I wrote in my diary and cried. Then I walked to Bourke St Bakery, listening to Bananarama, and bought myself coffee, a dark chocolate and raspberry muffin and a loaf of sourdough. I ate my sweet treat in the park, with coffee, and a book. I enjoyed the open space, the air, the bird songs, the movement of people and traffic. And reading my book. I felt a bit more connected to the world out there.

I realise I'm experiencing grief. I realise this is necessary. I realise that it will pass. But until then I will try to be okay with my sadness and not be too hard on myself.

I realise that this may read like a dodgy self-help 'healing' narrative. Oh well.

thick skin doesn't feel as good

i'm not really happy with this world i've carved for myself.

i just came from a meeting with the director and review panel chair to see if my marginal assessment can be overturned. they said no, but agreed to an earlier follow-up review in January. I wouldn't care only I believe my chances of university research funding have been hindered.

things said at the meeting that pissed me off:

- this (non-funding potential) is an unfortunate consequence of the review decision, but is nothing to do with the review panel
- this is what academia is about - it's a competitive world and often you don't get funding to attend conferences
- a lot of students self-fund their education
- we'd like you to concentrate on the work you're doing (conferences are good but sometimes they can be a distraction)
- we believe it's a two-way relationship and the student has to take responsibility

of course, not everything said was this fucked up. But it was fucked up enough for me to be sitting here now, blowing steam, thinking it unlikely that i'll go to tomorrow's xmas lunch.

i made a point of mentioning that my progress was barely discussed at the review panel, the discussion centring upon supervision difficulties. the director agreed and implied that maybe i should have talked more about my progress. i mentioned that i wasn't in a space to do so. i wasn't. i was fucking exhausted, seething, uncomfortable. i could only think one thing - "get me out of here". it's only been since the review, the annulment of that relationship, that i've been able to embrace the work once again. of course i'm fucking behind schedule. of course i'm willing to take some responsibility for this. but what about the centre, can they?

talking to malcolm on the weekend and he says there's an art to communicating and getting people to do what you want, or to come around to your perspective. he said it gets more difficult the older you get, that people can be forgiving of you when you're in your 20s, but not when you're a grown up. i thought he was referring to 'talking the talk' but said i'd much rather 'walk the walk'. he denied that this is what it is. i heard myself explaining that i've always invested much in the notion of honesty and open communication. i speak as i think. of course i try to give context and gently reveal that which might be confronting or read in ways unintended, but my policy has always been as much honesty as i can muster. and i've had a lot of practice with this, throughout my 20s, in collective organisations, in non-professional and creative working environments, amongst friends - whose communication is more valuable than a phd.

and at the end of today's meeting, like at the review panel, i exposed the way i felt about things. i tried to stop myself but it just falls out. i expose my anxieties, fears, weaknesses. but i guess that's not a good look in the professional realm.

it all reminds me of Paris telling me i need to play the game. in other words, talk the talk. but i'm resistant (a word my ex-supervisor often used to describe me) to giving myself over to that world. if academia is competitive and brutal then academia can just fuck off.